Airplanes
by Carcy
Summary: Erik loves taking airplanes. Charles hates it. When something comes up and they have to travel to the other end of the country, what should they do? Lighthearted slash. Oneshot, and despite the title, not a B.o.b / Hayley Williams songfic!


**A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed and ****favourited**** my previous story, Saving Me! I've never written twice in the same fandom before, but you guys were so encouraging that this story was born :D I'm playing around with a different style so if this fic's choppy in places that's probably why :) Thanks to Natters13 for beta-ing!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the X-Men, but I think that's fairly obvious, no?**

Erik loves flying places. The further the place the better, because the airplane is bigger and the airplane is what Erik really loves about the entire experience.He can feel the metal in the airplane just by reaching out. It's always of the very highest grade: strong, sturdy and reliable; it would need to be to survive the flight. Erik feels its joy in being there, in being able to fly. Metal is usually humble and willing: a servant used to earthbound slogging and not to soaring, so the plane's metal is always thrilled at its lofty fate. And Erik, who can feel its exultation, delights in it.

There are other things Erik loves. He loves the metal detectors the airport staff use, loves how redundant and ridiculous they are. After all, he could hijack the plane just by using his mind. He loves the heady sense of power, of knowing that he can cause the plane to plummet to the ground, lift it up again, turn a few somersaults, anything his heart desires.

To put it plainly, Erik just loves flying. You could assume he'd fly every chance he gets, but you'd be mistaken. If you gave Erik a choice he would choose not to fly.

You see, Erik seldom goes far without Charles, and Charles absolutely hates to fly. And as much as Erik loves flying, he loves Charles more, and so he wants what Charles wants.

Charles hates flying places. The further the place the more he hates it, because the airplane is bigger, and a bigger airplane generally holds more passengers.

He can feel the minds surrounding his without even reaching out. Being trapped in a humungous clanking metal container, miles above the ground with no way out tends to put them on edge for some reason. Their thoughts are louder, more forceful and better able to penetrate his mental shields. Longer flights are even worse because people tend to be more nervous.

Their uneasiness makes Charles uncomfortable, to the point where he feels physically ill. Sure there are a couple of excited first-timers, but for the most part they're all just anxious to get it over with and get off the dastardly thing. And when a baby starts screaming somewhere, which always seems to happen, he hears it in a hundred minds at once, and feels the annoyance of a hundred passengers in addition to his own. Once, a woman had a miscarriage on the plane; the curiosity and lack of actual sympathy he sensed from all their fellow passengers sickened him.

To cut a long story short, Charles really hates flying. You'd assume that he'd avoid it like the plague, but you'd be wrong. You see, Erik loves to fly. And as much as Charles hates it, the fact is, he loves Erik, and so he wants what Erik wants.

The arguments start when Charles discovers Jean Grey while using Cerebro. She's only a little girl, but her mutant powers are off the scale, dangerous even to herself. Her parents are terrified and desperate for advice. Charles knows that he can help. If he could just meet them, talk to them; persuade her to attend his school... The problem is that they live on the other side of the country, a week's journey by road. However, it just so happens that there's an airport not too far from the Grey home.

Erik is adamant that they should make a road trip. He insists that airplanes are nasty noisy things that go *bump* ALL the time, the seats are much too small for true comfort, and airplane food is terrible. Also, if God had meant for man to fly, they would have wings already.

This coming from Erik, who leads a Spartan existence and doesn't believe in organized religion, is somewhat bewildering to Charles. He quickly counters that in-flight movies are very intellectually stimulating, airplanes are lovely luxurious places which serve free wine, and air stewardesses are things of beauty and a joy forever. Not to mention that a lengthy absence will probably end in their returning to find that the teenagers have blown up the mansion.

Neither can quite understand why the other is being so goddamn frustrating (Erik's words), or so bloody annoying (Charles'). Soon enough, the debate becomes a full-blown argument. They childishly decide not to speak to each other, but it's amazing how pointless that is when you can communicate just by thinking. A quick memory of the feel of Charles's lips on Erik's; that's all it takes for the issue to be rudely shoved aside in favor of more pleasant activities. But the next morning, Erik catches Charles in the middle of a telephone call to the airline to reserve seats for them. Erik looks livid but says nothing, and Charles decides that he has won. He braces himself for the journey.

The next day, Charles is having tea in his study when he's startled by a volley of stunned exclamations. It takes him a few moments to realize that the words are coming from the teenagers' minds, not their mouths.

_What the... Has he gone crazy? What the hell is he DOING?___

_Holy crap that's wicked! Wonder if he'd let me have a go? Maybe if I swear that I'll train really really hard this week...___

_Where on earth did he manage to find that? Oh God, what will Charles say?___

_That's so fucking unfair if I did that I'd be out on my ass in two seconds! But just because the Prof's totally in love with him, it's fine if HE steals a plane..._

That last line has Charles rushing to the window to see for himself if Alex is telling the truth. Surely Erik – his pragmatic, detailed, careful Erik – would never do anything so utterly reckless! Unfortunately, his eyes are insisting that the field behind the house is indeed about to become a runway for a small, but sleek and shining plane. A little audience consisting of the mansion's inhabitants are watching as Erik guides the plane into a smooth landing.

_Not bad, considering it's my first landing,_ he hears Erik musing. Then, louder, the thought directed at him this time- _Charles, get out here, I've got something to show you!_

_I can see it already_, Charles thinks back furiously. _What the hell is THAT for? What were you thinking?_

Erik seems stunned by his fury, and is quiet for a moment. _You don't like it?_ He finally asks, his mental voice small and uncertain.

All Charles's anger whooshes out of him at the tinge of anxiety in Erik's mind. He deflates. He can't be angry at Erik like this, no matter what. He sighs.

_Of course I do,_ he soothes the other man. _It's a marvelous plane, truly it is. I mean, it's clearly very new and shiny, and, uh..._He pauses, somewhat disconcerted. It's a plane. What can he say? What other adjectives are there for planes? He backtracks. _And, er, anyway, you handle it very well. __  
><em>  
>Erik visibly cheers up. <em>I know! She's the best plane in the whole airfield; I made sure of that before I took her. She's perfectly balanced and aerodynamic, easy to handle, flies like a dream! I thought that we could fly her to see that family you keep going on about, the one with the mutant daughter. Jean, right? Then you wouldn't have to deal with those annoying people in your head during the flight.<em>_  
><em>  
>Charles is somewhat taken aback. <em>Wait, you- you know about that?<em>

_Of course,_ comes the prompt reply. As Charles stares out the window in disbelief, Erik squints up at the mansion. _Where are you anyway? Come down and take a look._

Charles steels himself for the unpleasant revelation he knows he has to make.

_Erik, my friend, I'm afraid you can't just go taking planes whenever you feel like it, _he thinks gently._ You're not constantly on the move anymore, you know. Stolen planes are fairly easy to trace and you're bound to get caught.__  
><em>  
>Erik sounds indignant. <em>I didn't steal it, Charles! This is just borrowing. I'll return it when we're done. <em>__

_I believe you, my dear friend, but I doubt the police will._

Erik gets grumpy. _I suppose I shall have to return it then. What do we do now?_ He huffs. It's adorable, like a petulant child, and Charles can't help grinning.

_Fly back to wherever you got the plane from, love. I'll come with you.___

_Fine. __  
><em>  
>He joins Erik in the plane under the bewildered gaze of his students. <em>I'll explain when we get back,<em> he thinks to them. They ignore him and stay put watching. 'Scram!' Erik, still put out about having to return his new toy, growls. The teenagers take one look at his expression and leave hurriedly.

They head back to the airfield. Charles admits to himself that without the endless babble of voices, this mode of traveling is actually rather pleasant. His mind is quieter than he can remember it being in a long time. The only thing he can hear is the joyous hum of Erik's thoughts as he fiddles with the controls, and he loves seeing the other man so happy. He brushes his hand lightly against Erik's. _I love you so much_, he thinks softly.

When they land, the police are there waiting. 'Shit,' Charles mutters. He looks at Erik, who shrugs. Someone must have recognized the plane, because the policemen are already sweeping in towards them.

_Whatever I say, play along, all right?_ He directs Erik, who nods. Charles takes a deep breath and prepares to work his magic.

Somehow he manages to convince the policemen, airfield guards and the actual owner of the plane that this is all a misunderstanding. He's just a wealthy, eccentric Englishman who saw the plane and mentioned to his personal pilot that he might like to get one. Unfortunately, his non-English speaking pilot misunderstood Charles's admittedly abysmal German, and, thinking that he'd already hired the airplane, immediately went to pick it up the next day.

Erik interjects occasionally with sporadic flows of German, which seem to clinch the deal for the law enforcement officials. They actually laugh at Charles's charming, bumbling apology, and let them off with only a warning. Erik returns to the cockpit and waits for Charles to finish his lengthy conversation with the owner of the plane. The man seems excited; perhaps he doesn't buy Charles's story? Eventually, though, the two shake hands and the owner even offers to fly them back home.

Over the next few days, nothing more is said about visiting the Greys. Erik hopes that Charles has given up on the idea entirely; however, there comes a day when Charles asks to meet him after lunch, saying he has something important to discuss. Erik agrees and goes to Charles's study prepared for a fight.

To his surprise, Charles isn't in his study. Instead, he asks Erik to meet him at the back of the house. Erik can tell something's up; Charles's mental voice sounds excited. He decides to go along with it, though, and heads where he's been told.

He sees Charles first, running into him as he turns the corner to the back. He's calling a greeting when something behind the professor catches his eye, glittering among the waving green grass as the golden rays of the afternoon sun reflect off its windows. It looks familiar, but more than that it _feels_familiar. He can sense firm unyielding metal sheets, molded in the graceful curves and sharp edges which form the body, as well as the tiny delicate metal bits which form the engines. He can't help sucking in his breath in awe.

'Do you like it?' asks Charles hopefully. 'I mean, I know you like the plane, I could see that before. But do you truly LIKE it, or just like it? Because I kind of bought it for you already, so I'm hoping I guessed right and you do genuinely like it.'

'You bought me an airplane,' says Erik at last, his face a picture of disbelief.

'Why, yes,' says Charles, as though it's the most natural thing in the world, as though he gifts airplanes to people every day. For all Erik knows, he might. Comprehending the inner workings of the minds of the rich is obviously not one of Erik's many talents. Despite this, or maybe because of it, he still has his pride, and it compels him to speak.

'Charles, I can't accept this.'

'Why not?' asks Charles. 'I've already gotten it for you!'

Erik feels that Charles is missing the point. 'Charles,' he tries again. 'It's an airplane. An actual airplane.'

Charles's face falls. 'Crap, you hate it, don't you?' _Damn Raven and her stupid romantic ideas!_ 'I'm sorry; I just really thought you would like this. I can try to return it, or maybe Hank might find it useful for recreating Blackbird...'

'No, no!' protests Erik, feeling sick at the very idea of the furry mutant taking apart HIS plane. 'It's fantastic, I love it, but it costs far too much. I'd never be able to afford something like that for you. Not unless I rob a bank.' _Huh. That's an idea. Maybe I should._

Charles must have caught the gist of Erik's thoughts, because he gives the other man a warning frown. 'I don't need you to buy me anything. Why does it matter anyway? I love you, I want to buy something for you, and I can afford it, so why not?'

Erik shakes his head wordlessly, unable to explain his point of view. It's just that, growing up as he has; he's realized that nothing in life is completely free. His mother loved him, but she paid for that with her life. Shaw saved him from the camps, but he paid for that in ways so horrible he's blanked them out completely. He's learnt not to accept gifts at face value; the price is always much too high. His reasons are there, but he struggles to find the words to convey them to Charles. In the end, he just sends a mental flash of everything he's feeling, hoping desperately that Charles will understand.

The stubborn set of the telepath's jaw softens. Erik knows he has grasped the situation; he can almost see the other man's brains churning, searching for a solution.

'But Erik, what makes you think this is a free gift?' he asks innocently- so innocently, in fact, that if Erik didn't know better he might have been taken in. Instead, he stubbornly remains silent, refusing to fall into Charles's trap. Undaunted, the professor ploughs on. 'This is a joint venture. I'm only funding it, I expect you to supply all the labour and expertise.'

Erik is flummoxed. 'What expertise?'

Charles shrugs. 'Flying the plane, performing maintenance works, upgrading, and anything else you think necessary.'

'How does that make sense? Those are the best parts about having a plane, how can my doing that count as me doing my equal share? I mean, I love doing those things.'

'Exactly,' Charles agrees calmly. 'You love handling the plane because you're good at it, whereas I'm rubbish at it. The only thing I love to do and can do is pay. Surely you wouldn't be so heartless as to deprive me of my only useful skill?'

_Damn the man,_ Erik thinks furiously. He's got him, all right. Now he's stuck once again, accepting another favour he can't possibly repay. Only useful skill, indeed! What about his skill at twisting everything around so that Erik always ends up doing what he wants?

_My friend, it's not like that_. Charles thinks gently, and Erik realizes he must have projected his thoughts. _I wish you could see how much you give me everyday just by being yourself and being here,_ the telepath adds a little sadly.

Erik can feel the depth of love behind those words, and it lifts his mood abruptly. He doesn't let Charles see this, though. No, he's going to make him suffer a little first as revenge. With that in mind, he crosses his arms and glares defiance at the other man.

'Prove it!' He challenges.

'What?' says Charles, taken aback. 'Prove what? How?'

'Prove to me that I really mean as much to you as you say,' Erik clarifies.

'How am I supposed to do that?' asks the telepath, bewildered.

'Oh, it's easy,' Erik assures him. 'Hire yourself another pilot.'

'What? Why? Of course I can do that if you wish, but I thought- I could've sworn- I mean, you said so yourself, you like to fly, don't you? I just thought-'

Erik can't help laughing, and thus immediately spoils his plans for revenge. He leans forward and pulls the spluttering telepath into a hug. 'I do like it,' he reassures him. 'In fact, I love it, but it's just that we'll need another pilot around occasionally. I don't know if you've heard, but there's this thing called the Mile High Club...'

Charles simply rolls his eyes and kisses him.

**Thanks for reading! I'm not very keen on this story for some reason, but do let me know what you think!**


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